


A Shot of Silence

by Terminallydepraved



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, M/M, bartender!chrollo, mafia boss!silva
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 11:34:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13974258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: When the drinks aren't the only thing worth trying here...





	A Shot of Silence

**Author's Note:**

> so someone named Potato donated to my ko-fi as thanks for my silvakuros so i felt the need to write another as a thank you to that thank you! this ones for you, Potato! i hope you enjoy it!

The bar wasn’t like any other bar Silva had ever visited, just like his men had warned him in the car ride over. The façade was dark outside where the others were brightly lit, marked by neon lights or the glowing ends of cigarettes held in chilled hands by those needing a break from the pounding music within. This place, though… There were no lights. There was no sign. It shared a street with some of the more infamous clubs in the city, but it didn’t try to dress itself to compete.

His men had warned him it was strange, but the mystery was too much to ignore. What sort of person owned a club that defied the standard protection fee offered to every other business on this street? Silva ducked beneath the low doorway and into the equally low room within. Silence greeted him.

Well, silence and the bartender seated on the floor ahead.

Silva looked at the bodyguard behind him, raising a judgmental brow. The man shrugged, holding his hands up as if he didn’t know what to tell him. Silva rolled his eyes and waved the man off, sending him outside to wait with the car. He’d come for curiosity first and a drink second; weird or not, he was going to get at least the latter before he wrote this strange, quiet bar off entirely.

His footsteps were loud as he moved deeper into the room. The bartender was a slight thing, lithe and as dark as the low-lit bar itself. He sat behind a small, knee-high counter that divided the room in half, boxing him in and separating him from the clientele. Silva narrowed his eyes when he saw he wasn’t the only patron. A few others were scattered around, tucked into shadowy corners with drinks already in hand, sitting silently despite the company some held.

Strange. That was really the only word for it. Silva came to a stop at the short little counter, looking down at the bartender seated on the other side. He was lovely in a way that could intimidate easily. Dark eyes, dark hair, pale skin that glowed dimly in the wane, intimate light. Silva cleared his throat and earned himself a doleful glance. A slender hand unfolded itself from within the volumes of a kimono sleeve, coaxing him to kneel. Silva acquiesced if only to save himself the trouble of stooping in the low room.

“I’ll have a bour—” Silva began to say, only to be cut off by a glare and a wave of that pale hand. He furrowed his brow and cocked his head, irritation rising up in the wake of the rent silence. He opened his mouth to try again, maybe inform this uppity creature of who he was, but the bartender wasn’t looking at him now. No, he was busying himself with something beneath the bar, the tinkling of glasses and gentle bubble of pouring liquid louder than a gunshot in the silent room.

Within a few seconds a drink was presented to Silva, one that was anything but the simple bourbon he’d been in the middle of ordering. It sat in a short glass, wide at the base and garnished with a thin wheel of lime. Silva looked at the bartender, and then back down at the drink. “I—” _didn’t order this_ , he tried to say, jolting when a cool hand covered his lips. The bartender brought his other hand up to his own, a single finger pressed to his lips in a gesture that couldn’t be misconstrued.

Be quiet.

Silva took the bartender by the wrist, pulling his hand away from his mouth. He was smiling, wasn’t he? Behind that bratty little finger of his, his lips were quirked like he was having fun. Did he have any idea who Silva was? What sort of things he could orchestrate for this kind of disrespect? The bartender rolled his shoulders and tugged on his trapped hand, sighing silently when Silva didn’t let go. With his other hand he pushed the glass closer to Silva. With dark, laughing eyes, he nodded at it pointedly, gesturing for Silva to take it.

A vein in Silva’s temple threatened to pound. What a cheeky brat. Silva glared down at the drink, taking in the dark amber of the liquid. It wasn’t bourbon, so what was it? The lime gave him pause; he wasn’t fond of froofy drinks, and if he drank at all, he drank his liquor straight, unmuddied by other flavors. Silva held onto the wrist of the bartender as he lifted the glass to his nose. He’d been told this was a strange bar. If it was the kind of strange he didn’t like, he comforted himself with the thought that he could always have it burnt down.

He smelled heady oak, aged malt. Silva watched the bartender carefully, noting how he smiled when he deigned to bring the glass to his lips.

The moment the drink met his tongue was the moment Silva loosened his grip. There was really nothing else to be done; the taste of lime and age coated his mouth in a powerful rush, invading his palate in a way brandy couldn’t and bourbon wouldn’t. It sparked in his nose and danced on his tongue, the fire of the drink enhanced by the citrus that chased it down his throat. Warmth filled his belly in a liquid line. Silva’s gaze softened. The bartender smiled wider.

 _See?_ His perfect pink lips shaped the word slowly, elongating it like a tease so Silva would understand.  _Good, isn’t it?_

It was better than good; it was the best drink Silva had ever had. And for the life of him… For the life of him, he still couldn’t tell what it was. He stared at the beautiful bartender in awe, begrudging respect a chaser to the drink in his hand. His thumb stroked the soft inner wrist still trapped in his hand. He cradled it gently, impressed enough to consider what it was he’d found in this dark, quiet place.

“W—” Silva cut himself off before the bartender could chastise him again. He shook his head, fighting the smile tugging at his lips. _Your name_ , he mouthed slowly, resting his elbows on the counter. _Tell me._

The bartender’s smile turned mischievous. He turned his gaze demurely to the floor, baring the swan-like length of his beautiful nape. The dark silk he wore did him every favor. Silva wanted to see what lay below even more. He dipped his head, chasing those dark eyes.

 _Please?_ Silva mouthed, drawing his thumb down the heartline of the bartender’s palm. If he wasn’t mistaken, he thought he saw a shiver tremble along the silk.

Pale pink lips yielded to a teasing white band of teeth. Worried as they were, it only added to their appeal. The bartender met Silva’s eyes, judging him the way he had when he first walked in. What might he make him next? Silva couldn’t wait to see.

With a whisper of silk and a breath of warmth, the bartender leaned over the counter, putting those lips to his ear. Silva sat stock still. He held his breath, fingers slipping in the condensation forming around the mouth of his glass.

“Chrollo,” the bartender murmured, his voice thick, rich, smooth like the drink and just as intoxicating. Silva turned towards it, catching dark eyes watching him, those lips trailing his cheek like a chaser. Silva swallowed. The back of his neck prickled with the cool touch of sweat.

Chrollo pulled away, settling himself behind his counter once more. He took back his hand, folding it under his chin as he propped his elbows on the polished wood, nodding at the drink still half-full in Silva’s hand.

_Go ahead, Silva._

Silva didn’t even bother trying to ask how the bartender knew his name. Instead, he took another sip of the drink, making himself comfortable on the floor. This bar really wasn’t like anything he’d experienced before. Silva had a feeling he’d be coming back. Whatever spell this was… Well, breaking it would be a waste. Burning it down, even more so.

After all, where else could he find a drink this good?

**Author's Note:**

> not too sure what the premise of all this is, i was just kinda rolling with the first thing that came to me. im assuming silva is a mob boss of some sort and chrollo is the bartender and owner of a strange sort of bar that markets in silence and strange drinks. you dont order here-- chrollo makes you a custom drink based on his impression of you when you walk in the door. im not sure what happens if you break the silence rule too many times... i suppose ill leave the rest up to your imaginations.
> 
> thank you for reading! if you liked this, please leave a comment, kudo, and check me out on tumblr (terminallydepraved) for more of the same. id like to do more of these little ficlet type things in exchange for the kofis i get, so if thats something up your alley, please check out my blog for that!
> 
> until next time!


End file.
